That would be Hubby and Teen Angel chasing down the ice cream man. He usually visits on Thursday afternoons before I get home from work. My peeps usually mention that he came by, and I see them eat a few treats here and there. I don't pay any attention because I don't eat ice cream on a regular basis. Last week, they missed the truck, and they acted like the world was about to end.
Last night, the truck came AFTER I got home, and his visit triggered a flurry of excitement. Teen Angel went running for money. I handed her a $5 bill, and she said, "Uh, that's not gonna be enough."
"Well, here's a $10, get one for grandma and grandaddy, too."
"Um, that's still not gonna be enough."
Off she scooted on the golf cart to pick up Hubby who was up the street at Mama J.'s and Papa T.'s. A couple of minutes later, they came zipping back up the driveway with Hubby hollering for me to get his wallet. They drove up the street to the truck, which was sidelined at the first house on the block.
They were gone. They were gone for a while. Like fifteen minutes gone. When they came back, they were loaded down with a sack of goodies.
Look at that bag on his lap.
And someone may or may not have made a rude gesture toward me when he caught me taking his picture with the mother load of Nutty Buddies and Push-Ups. And Dora bars. And Sponge Bob bars.
It seems two of the Hula-gen's are on very good terms with the ice cream man. As in he waited in front of the wrong house last week, looking for them, so as not to miss a good sale. Suspecting that Thursday afternoons with the ice cream man are a bigger deal then they've let on all summer, I asked Teen Angel just how much they spend each week at the ice cream truck. Her reply through cold teeth?
"I'm not allowed to divulge that information."